


Too distracted

by nitorisource



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitorisource/pseuds/nitorisource
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke claims the reason he can't pay attention in class is because the person <em>teaching</em> it poses too much of a distraction. And now Makoto is terribly conflicted about his morals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too distracted

**Author's Note:**

> yo [sou-makos'](http://sou-makos.tumblr.com/post/96931906434/teacher-student-au-soumako-i-rly-just-want) post was callin out to me  
> this is just meant as a starting chapter next one is gonna be a lil more handsy

There’s a soft knock on the door and Makoto glances up from the stack of papers on his desk just as Sousuke peers his head into the room. “Ah, Yamazaki-kun,” he says, giving him a strained smile as he stands and motions for his student to enter. “I’ll try to make this quick so that you can attend practice.”

Sousuke merely presses his lips together and slowly takes a seat in the front row as Makoto leans back on the front of his desk, and he can’t help but notice, again, just how large of a person Sousuke is for a seventeen year old high school student, his legs stretching out under the desk as he slumps in his chair.

“I need to speak with you about your grades. They’re not, well, _terrible_ , exactly, but as an athlete there are higher expectations of you to maintain them to a certain degree.” He fidgets with the corners of the tests on his desk, still not quite comfortable with being straight forward with his students like this considering this is only his second year teaching. It doesn’t help that Sousuke’s stoic countenance doesn’t shift an inch in any direction to his words, and he wonders if the teen cares at all about what he’s saying.

“Also, your worst marks are in Literature class. Which is _my_ class. And, as your homeroom teacher, that’s somewhat--”

“Embarrassing?” Sousuke offers suddenly.

“Emb--?" he tries to repeat, taken aback. "Ah, well, I suppose you could say…” Makoto turns his head slightly towards the windows, unable to look Sousuke and his blunt words in the face for a moment as he feels his cheeks begin to warm up, before focusing his attention again on the passive face before him.

“S-so, if there is anything I could do to help you, I’d rather you tell me now.” Sousuke merely blinks at him. “If you need extra tutoring, or if there are other problems interfering with your schoolwork, then I’m _more_ than glad to help you.”

They sit in shared silence for several seconds, the conversation clearly going nowhere, and Makoto grows more and more uneasy the longer he stares into Sousuke’s teal eyes. They’re the only part of his face that give away something more than the dark-haired boy’s usual stoic outwardness, and he thinks that he might see _amusement_ swimming in those cold irises, which absolutely baffles him.

Sousuke stands from his seat, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, and steps up to Makoto. He gets to his feet as well, and now that they’re both standing face to face like this, Makoto realizes that Sousuke is physically taller than him, one of the few people on campus who can stake that claim. In fact, this teenager and his serious expression could probably pass himself off as an adult if it comes to things like seeing an explicitly rated movie or trying to buy cigarettes with an ID, he thinks idly to himself.

“Actually, sensei, I have a problem with your class,” he says slowly.

“You do?” Makoto asks, trying his best to mask the surprise and dread in his voice.

“There’s no way I learn anything in there,” he states simply.

“Why is that?” Makoto’s mind goes to work trying to figure out what that could possibly mean, and wonders if it’s something the other students are having a problem with as well. Is it his teaching methods, or his book choices, or is he just an awful and boring teacher and no one is willing to speak up? He grows more crestfallen as the possibilities roll through his mind.

“It’s too distracting.”

Makoto still has no idea what he’s talking about and just as he opens his mouth to ask him again what he means, Sousuke reaches forward and closes his fingers around the brunet’s black tie. With a rough yank towards his chest, he has Makoto staggering forward just enough for their lips to collide against one another’s, and the teacher lets out a noise of protest when he tries desperately to pull away only to have Sousuke cup a hand over the back of his neck to keep him in place.

The way Sousuke runs his tongue over Makoto’s teeth before forcing its way inside his mouth, how his fingers begin to twine into his brown hair, the way they share heated, moist breath between them whenever Sousuke adjusts the tilt of his head, the way the front of Makoto's shirt crumples and tightens in Sousuke’s fist - Makoto is lost momentarily in the overwhelming _feeling_ of the person in front of him that he suddenly finds his hands reaching up in need of clutching onto Sousuke’s shirt, his hair, _anything_.

But it’s only for a moment, and in the next second those same needy hands are shoving away at the body pressed against his instead of trying to cling to him closer. Sousuke stumbles back when their lips unlock and he raises an eyebrow at the way Makoto furiously wipes over his wet mouth with the back of his hand, an actual smile settling on Sousuke's face which does no less than enrage Makoto at the sight of how cocky this person is acting.

“Y-Yamazaki-kun, p-please. Leave my c-classroom. Right now,” he says, the stammer to his voice cutting through the effectiveness of his authoritative tone. He stares hard at the defiant blue eyes that stare right back at him, but after a few tense moments, Sousuke merely makes a ‘tch’ noise and wipes at the corner of his mouth with his thumb before turning away.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Makoto stumbles backwards until he can feel the support of his desk, and his shaking knees buckle underneath him. He doesn’t remember the last time his heart has pounded this hard in his chest and he shuts his eyes as he tries to get his heartbeat and breathing under control.

This is wrong. Doing that was wrong - allowing his student to do that to him was just wrong, and he knows that the next time he sees Sousuke they need to have a serious talk about what just happened. God, this is all sorts of _wrong_ and Makoto understands that _clearly_ , but--

But imagining having to be alone in a room with Sousuke again - the teen’s larger frame imposed against his, those large hands roaming again over his body or pulling at his hair, the taste of their tongues and saliva running together, the quiet noises Sousuke so easily pulled from his throat -

He hangs his head in his hands and groans aloud. His second school year of teaching has only begun and he wonders how he’s supposed to last until the next spring.

He quickly learns that he lasts about a damn  _week_ before he kisses all resolve goodbye.

 

 


End file.
